


A Shadow's Kiss

by 5t3r30typ1c4l



Series: Shadow and Boned [1]
Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Book 1: King of Scars Spoilers, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay Sex, Hallucinations, M/M, Monsters, Obedience, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5t3r30typ1c4l/pseuds/5t3r30typ1c4l
Summary: The war is over and the Darkling is dead. Or is he?Nikolai has been having nightmares about the Darkling and soon he started seeing the man everywhere. Then, one night, the Darkling seems determined to torture Nikolai in whatever way possible. Even if it means making the young king submit.
Relationships: The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Nikolai Lantsov
Series: Shadow and Boned [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123112
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

Nikolai Lantsov had a problem. More than a problem, a conundrum one might call it. If a horrid shadow demon living inside your mind could be called that. After the civil war, after the Darkling had died, he had thought it was over. Those few days he'd been trapped inside his head had been burned into his memory.  
Forever. He had hoped that the dark power would be wiped away with the Darkling’s death. He had gotten his wish; though now that Alina was gone and with her the curse, he felt empty. Thankfully rebuilding a tired Ravka proved to be very time consuming. With Zoya’s help Nikolai planned his coronation. Reconstructing the destroyed chapel on the palace grounds took some time. With the Apparat’s blessing Alina had been added beside the twelve Saints of Ravka. It was comforting, knowing that she would guide him. He’d worn the bear pelt of Sankt Grigori (it smelled atrocious) and suffered through hours of boring monologues. All so he could shape his country into the fierce power he knew it could be. He would forge something anew from the ashes of war. He promised peace to his people and to the First and Second Armies.  
Finally he was Ravka’s King; and, of course, that’s when the nightmares started. After all, it was Ravka, there was always something else. At first he’d been able to sleep just fine. Well, as fine as could be expected for someone of his standing. But he had started seeing things. Glimpses of dark fabric when he turned a corner. A flicker of grey eyes in the middle of a crowd. He had brushed it off, chalking it up to stress, yet it got worse. He heard whispers, his name when he was completely alone, comments about the castle, and… other things. Things that Nikolai didn’t care to think about.  
It got so much worse. He would dream of the Shadow Fold and it’s dead, grey sands. The unnatural darkness, that he, Nikolai Lantsov, would be able to see through. See in a vague sense, understand the shapes was a better analogy. He could feel the way they disturbed the Fold. Warping the shadows that sank into their deepest depths. Thus he was able to tell exactly what lay inside the Unsea.  
He would dream of the skiff wrecks. His body carried by two enormous wings. The wind in his hair as he flew. A faint scent on the wind that would draw his attention away from Alina, and his goal of becoming human again. Then an insatiable hunger would slam into him and send him reeling. Instantly he would become acutely aware of the hollowness of his gut. Like a rusted spoon was chipping at the walls of his stomach. He would adjust his course towards the amazing smell. That reminded him of Dominik’s mother and her delicious cooking. The comfort of their small house and garden.  
Nikolai, starved and delirious, would stumble upon a broken skiff somewhere in the Fold. His hopes would whither and die when he saw what had drawn him to the wreckage. A corpse and the Volcra that feasted on it. He couldn’t stop himself, Nikolai would move closer to the snarling creatures. He too would growl and snap and lunge.  
The second his obsidian teeth would sink into the still warm flesh he would scream; and he would wake up.  
Abruptly those nightmares stopped. Like whatever was torturing him decided it had had enough. He would dream instead that he was stumbling around in pitch blackness. His feet would slip and slide like he was walking on sand. Head pounding he would walk for what felt like hours. Until his legs were numb with pain and blood began to drip from his nose. A light would pierce the darkness, a soft violet glow. A voice would draw him in, closer and closer. At first it was soft mumbles and coos that Nikolai couldn’t decipher. Then, finally, he would come across a glass sandskiff. Filled with so much bright liquid that it hurt his eyes.  
There was only one man atop the skiff. Smiling down at Nikolai, was the Darkling.  
“I’m still here.” He would say and point at Nikolai, “I’m still inside of you.”  
“What?” And he would wake, shaking and drenched in sweat. Ripping open his nightshirt in a panic. Searching for those damning black lines that had infected him. When he inevitably found nothing the panic would disappear. Nikolai would chastize himself and go about his day.  
That is, until this morning. Nikolai had woken early in the afterthrows of that nagging dream and dressed quickly. A simple white shirt, teal coat, and shined boots had sufficed. The palace grounds were quite beautiful in the morning. The grass covered in a layer of cold dew and heavy mists that hung close to the ground. Soft, early morning light would cast long shadows across the footpath. Painting the sky with bright pastel pinks and purples. The air was still and crisp, so Nikolai took his time with the walk to the Little Palace. Letting his mind wander.  
Suddenly Nikolai saw him. On the edge of the forest, huddled between two tall trees. He was hard to distinguish from the shadows. But Nikolai would have known that smirk anywhere. Those cold grey eyes that bore into his soul. It was impossible, he was dead, it was simply impossible! The logic and science that he so desperately clung to fled. Nikolai glanced around, to be certain he was alone, and stepped off the path.  
His shaking breaths pluming in the air, he held out a hand. He had to be sure, he had to know. The Darkling smiled and melted from the shadows. His black kefta rippling behind him like waves.  
“How peculiar.” He said, his voice low and clear. Like pristine Fabrikator glass. Nikolai furrowed his brows, his mouth open in shock.  
“It can’t be. It can’t be.” He mumbled, “you’re not real. A hallucination, I watched your body burn!”  
The Darkling met him halfway and took Nikolai’s hand. Warm, soft, and very much alive skin brushed across his palm. Nikolai stared at him, at the man who had killed his brother and slaughtered hundreds. So tenderly holding his hand. The Darkling, still smiling, brought Nikolai’s knuckles to his lips. Kissed them once,  
“You will make a good King.” Then he was gone. Leaving Nikolai staring at the spot where he had been and wondering if he was going insane.

Later that night all hell was about to break loose. A meeting had run late and he was absolutely exhausted. The Lord he had met with was one of the stubborn ones who refused to accept change. He had been a particularly tough nut to crack but Nikolai had gotten through that thick skull of his eventually. The coach ride back to the Grand Palace had been torturous. For more than one reason. With Zoya to his left and in front of him, chin resting on his palm, staring out the etched glass, was the Darkling. He yawned once or twice and glanced at Nikolai a few times. Who was fidgeting in his seat and trying to keep from reaching out. Zoya either hadn’t noticed the Darkling or couldn’t see him at all.  
Nikolai looked at her and the Darkling must have sensed what he was about to do. He rose one finger to his lips and made a ‘shush’ gesture. Nikolai gulped and looked away. The Darkling’s boot brushed against his ankle and a cold shudder ripped down his spine. Then a hand was sliding up his calf and Nikolai stifled a gasp. The Darkling was kneeling between his legs, one hand on Nikolai’s thigh. Never once had he stopped smiling, like he knew exactly what Nikolai was thinking.  
Horrified, Nikolai made no attempt to brush him away. If he was the only one that could see this cursed ghost, then he would look insane if he was swatting at air. He could only hope silently that Zoya wouldn’t turn her head. The Darkling ran one hand up Nikolai’s shirt, and across his abdomen. His cold skin made the king shiver. Goose-pimples rose across his stomach and ran down into his jeans. Nikolai grunted, a quizzical glance from Zoya and he coughed.  
“Sore throat.”  
She very obviously didn’t believe him. But she didn’t argue. The Darkling was resting his chin on Nikolai’s hip. His skilled fingers finding Nikolai’s nipple and pinching and rolling it. Causing the king to hiss in a breath and turn to stare out the window. In an attempt to hide his flushed face.  
“I’m still here.” The Darkling chuckled, “you can’t get rid of me that easily Little Lantsov.”  
The coach lurched to a stop and Nikolai said a silent prayer of thanks. The Darkling glanced to his left then grinned.  
“Later then. Hush now Nikolai, you may want to cover that up.” He pointed to Nikolai’s crotch and disappeared as the light from outside spilled across him. Nikolai looked down, he was embarrassingly hard. Throwing his head back Nikolai swallowed a mouthful of air. Shamefully he covered his crotch as best he could and half-walked half-waddled into the palace. Wanting nothing more than a warm bath and the comforts of his soft bed. He ignored the questioning glances thrown at him by his servants. Wished Zoya a quick goodnight, and retreated to his chambers.  
Tamar joined her brother as he stepped into the palace. Giving the king an update on what she had learned about the Shu and Fjerdans. “They’ve both made alarming advances in the past month. More tanks are being manufactured and we have reason to believe the two countries are working together. The Hringsa are going strong and Adrik has sent word of new Grisha coming to Ravka. Thirty at least, mostly Summoners and a few Corporalki.”  
“Good, the more the merrier.” Nikolai tried his best to plaster on a pleased smile. “Check the progress on the izmars’ya and tell Nina she is doing her job swimmingly.”  
“Something is bothering you?”  
“Terribly.” Said Nikolai, “but I would like to get at least five minutes of rest before the world falls apart.”  
“Of course.” Tamar replied and that was that.  
Tolya was to guard his room that night, perhaps if it had been Tamar things would have been different. Even though the Shu Heartrender was fearsome, he was soft at heart, it was his sister who was ruthless. Nikolai didn’t care at that moment who was watching what. All he wanted was to fill his bath and sink down into the huge copper tub. The second he heard his door latch he sighed in relief. Letting his clothes sag and fall off his weary shoulders. Ignoring the painful tightness of his pants, Nikolai hissed as he slipped them off. His fingers brushing against his throbbing erection. Sending shivers of delight through his aching legs.  
Nikolai groaned and thought about taking care of it real quick. He bit his lip and glanced around. No one was to come into his chambers, only Tolya, Tamar, and on the off chance, the Triumvirate. For some horrible reason he decided not to, strode across his room, naked, and threw open the window. Hoping the blast of balmy night air would calm his fevered skin.  
It didn’t. Nikolai groaned, scoffed, and turned away, walking instead to his bathroom. A spacious room lined with glittering tile and Fabrikator mirrors. So pristine it was like seeing your doppelganger. While Nikolai waited for his bath to fill he prodded at his chest. Stretching and pulling the skin taught. Trying to glimpse the veins above his heart. If he was really back… if he was still alive then…  
There was nothing, and Nikolai almost sobbed in relief. Even though his hands still shook, and even though the grey scars still covered them in an inky spiderweb, he was happy. Glad that the darkness inside him was truly gone forever.  
“I’m still here Little Lantsov.”  
Nikolai whirled around and stifled a scream. Kings did not scream. But they most certainly tripped over their own feet in an effort to flee. The Darkling was so close to him, Nikolai could feel his warm breath. His stare was so intense that Nikolai was certain the Darkling could see into his soul.  
“You cannot get rid of me that easily Nikolai.”  
“You already said that.” Nikolai’s confident demeanor was slipping. His voice shook as he spoke. “What do you want?”  
The Darkling, in all his manipulative cruelty, backstabbing, betraying, and stealing. Looked almost ashamed as he leaned in and whispered in Nikolai’s ear. Letting a hand run up the young king’s hitching side. “You.”  
When Nikolai blinked he was gone. Numbly he stumbled over and sank into his steaming bath. Letting the water leach all the weariness from his muscles. Slowly, he worked on untangling the knots in his golden hair. Surely the Darkling had meant he wanted Nikolai as a vessel for his power?  
That must have been it. Satisfied with this explanation Nikolai ignored his aching cock and tried to relax. Which proved nearly impossible because whenever he closed his eyes he could feel those nimble hands. Playing with and exploring his body, and sinful lips that would glide across his skin. Teeth that nibbled and pinched his sensitive nipples.  
“I will have you Little Lantsov, you won’t escape me.” His low, seductive voice dripped with lust. Nikolai couldn’t help it, he moaned, it felt amazing. A dream, this had to be a dream. He was asleep and this was the nightmare.  
“A vessel.” Nikolai gasped, scrambling to make sense of what was happening. If he opened his eyes would the Darkling be there? Would he be smiling? Of course he would be smiling. Quite frankly, Nikolai didn’t want to find out. “You want to use me as a vessel. That’s it isn’t it?”  
The Darkling chuckled and bit down on his neck. Nikolai threw his head back. Fists clenched around the rim of his tub. The sensations were making him melt, his cock was begging for attention. Saints he wanted it to be over! Mewling and sucking on his swollen lips Nikolai tried to steal his mind against the pleasure.  
“Don’t be like that Nikolai.” The Darkling smiled against his neck. His skillful fingers wrapping around Nikolai’s cock. The king moaned and gasped. “You want this don’t you?”  
Nikolai shook his head defiantly. Even as the Darkling started to move his hand. Slowly, teasing the boy, touching all the right places. The Darkling kissed Nikolai’s neck and jaw. “Tell the truth Little Lantsov.”  
“No!” Nikolai whined, then whimpered when the hand let go.  
“Have it your way Little Lantsov.” The Darkling growled, “enjoy.”  
What the hell was happening? Nikolai slowly pried his eyes open. He was alone, maybe that was it. He was just lonely and his mind was torturing him for it. Grumbling to himself Nikolai got out of the bath. The water cold as it dripped off his skin. He didn’t bother getting dressed, only toweled himself off and trudged back into his bedroom. By now it was dark and Nikolai was more than happy to collapse into his bed.  
He should have closed the windows. Then he wouldn’t have escaped.


	2. Chapter 2

“Come to me Nikolai. Go to the Fold, find the burning wood. Come to me, find the three spires, a dragon, a woman with eyes like honey, and a monster of a thousand bodies.”  
“What are you talking about Dominik?” Nikolai mumbled, his mind groggy with sleep.  
“Come to me Little Lantsov.”  
Nikolai gasped, his eyes flew open, and the Darkling was smiling down at him. “You.” He hissed, “why are you doing this to me?!”  
“My name is Aleksander Morozova, Little Lantsov, and you will scream it much this night.”  
“What?” Nikolai trembled, “what are you--”  
The Darkling smirked and squeezed Nikolai’s dick. The king groaned, he really should have put on clothes before he went to bed. He scrambled to make sense of what was happening. Where was he? Glancing around he saw his open window. The moon was winking at him from above the horizon. His head was laying in a bed of plush pillows. His thick duvet was tangled around his bare legs. The pistol. He thought frantically. The pistol he hid beside his bed. If only he could just--  
“What are you thinking Nikolai?” The Darkling licked his chest. His eyes focused on Nikolai's blushing face. “Or should I call you Sturmhond? Sobachka?”  
“You're dead, dead as a doornail.”  
“Am I?” The Darkling teased, “or are you in denial? If I was dead wouldn't this be a silly dream?”  
“Yes, it's a dream. A stupid, terrible, disgusting dream.” Nikolai spat and the Darkling pouted.  
“It's not that bad. Is it?”  
“Amatuer-ish, like a virgin.”  
“Really? Your body says otherwise.” The Darkling accentuated his words with a tweak of Nikolai's nipple. Grinding his thigh between Nikolai's legs. The king jolted and found, to his horror, that he couldn't move his arms.  
“What the hell is this?” Nikolai sneered yanking on the shackles of shadow that clung to his wrists. “You're afraid I'll overpower you? That I'll repay you in kind?”  
“Not at all,” the Darkling said into his neck. Running his nose along Nikolai's jugular. “There is something stupendous about having the King of Ravka spread open for me.”  
“Why you--” Nikolai growled, all at once remembering himself. “Get off of me!”  
“There he is. My Little Lantsov.” The Darkling kissed a trail down Nikolai's body. The king jerked and seethed.  
“Tolya! Tamar!” He shouted looking desperately to his chamber door. The Darkling tsked and bit down in Nikolai's hip.  
“It's no fun when you say someone else's name. Aleksander.” He purred, “say it.”  
Nikolai sneered, “first you rip my country apart. Then you invade my mind. Now you want me to praise you like some whore? Never!”  
"Stubborn Sobachka. Stubborn.” The Darkling murmured, one hand beneath Nikolai’s knee. Laying the king’s leg across his shoulder. His very bare shoulder. Nikolai flushed, his face a mask of shame. The Darkling was staring at him, at a very vulnerable part of him. How could he be so incredibly calm? A deep blush had spread across Nikolai’s chest and neck. The tips of his ears were red, and his golden hair was plastered to his forehead. He’d never bed a woman before, sure there had been fumbled kisses, and once a servant had sucked him off in the back halls. But this? It was utterly embarrassing! The Darkling looked up at him, and, a stupid grin on his face, licked a long stripe up Nikolai’s cock.  
The king gasped and bit his lip. Pressing his head into the nest of pillows. Hoping that somehow he could escape this torture.  
“Sturmhond.” The Darkling breathed, “remember that day?” He was kneading the flesh of Nikolai’s ass.  
“I knew who you were. Even through the mask of horrid Tailoring. The Little Lantsov Prince. Cocky, arrogant, so sure of himself. I made the order to kill Vasily you know.” The Darkling confessed sitting back on his knees. He looked so dishevelled and incredibly young. Nikolai said nothing, he merely glared at the man. Watching as he ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. He had pale, almost silvery skin, and the curves of his face were elegantly handsome. Nikolai could appreciate the need to be impeccable. It was one of the few things one could control. Of course, the Darkling always chose a handsome facade. In his centuries of life he clung to it. How strangely human.  
The Darkling had scores of pale scars across his chest and Nikolai recognized the raised edge of a healed gunshot. Rough rope burns around his forearms and his neck. Deep wounds below his heart where someone had tried to stab him. A curiously fresh mark too, underneath his collar bone, just barely above his heart. Like a thick blade had burrowed into his chest. Alina. Nikolai remembered, Alina had stabbed him with a knife wrapped in shadows.  
The Darkling must have noticed his staring because he hovered over Nikolai. “The Sun Saint did this to me.” He laughed bitterly, “I thought she would be my balance. I was wrong.”  
Nikolai smirked, “you? Wrong? How incredulous.”  
“It is a rarity Little Lantsov. Don’t count on it.” Aleksander leaned in until Nikolai could feel the tickle of his breath. He cradled the king’s chin in his nimble hands. Gaze flickering between his lips and his hazel eyes. “May I?” He breathed, and Nikolai opened his mouth. So confused and so startled that all he could do was gawk.  
“You’re asking permission? How unlike you. All you did was take. Take. Take. Take.” Nikolai shrugged his shoulders. “Saints, well, where’s the harm if this is a dream?”  
For a second Aleksander looked hurt, quickly he wiped it away and kissed the king. To Nikolai’s immense surprise he was gentle. Carefully moving against the king’s sore mouth. Nikolai sighed, oh damn it all, if it was a dream it was a dream. He didn’t care anymore.  
“A dream,” Aleksander repeated, “are you certain?”  
“Why so cryptic Morozova? Thought dreams were supposed to be one’s hidden desires and I have no desire for a headache.”  
“Just… let me kiss you. It’s not real Little Lantsov, you said it yourself.” Aleksander coaxed his mouth open and Nikolai relished the feeling of a truly passionate kiss. Breathing heavy through his nose. Lifting his head from the nest of pillows following Aleksander’s lingering lips. “It's not real.”  
“It's real enough Morozova.” Nikolai mumbled as Aleksander set to sucking a bruise onto his neck. Nikolai sighed in frustration. “We went through this already.”  
“Patience Little Lantsov, let me have my fun.”  
“Do I really have a choice?” Nikolai grumbled, “you’ve got me quite trapped.”  
Aleksander didn’t reply merely suckled on Nikolai’s nipple and relished the young king’s moans of pleasure. When he tired of teasing the king he moved on. Leaving opened mouth kisses in his wake. Then Nikolai found himself in that same humiliating position. Legs spread over Aleksander’s muscular shoulders. The Darkling’s warm breath against his ass. Nikolai chewed the inside of his lip.  
“You look like a child given a ripe peach.” Nikolai swallowed and shakily added, “ravenous.”  
The Darkling licked his lips and for a moment Nikolai didn’t know what he was planning. He nearly screamed when Aleksander began tonguing his ass. Kissing and licking like Nikolai was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. Whimpering Nikolai tossed his head back with a low groan. The Darkling was fucking him with his tongue! The damn Darkling! His cock twitched where it lay on his belly and his thighs began to quiver. Aleksander held his knees open wide as he devoured Nikolai. Leaving the boy whining and whimpering and painfully hard. The king raised his hips and tugged on his bonds. Willingly spreading his legs as far as they would go. Squeezing Aleksander's head between his knees. His nails into his palms, panting and gasping, spit dripping from his swollen lips.  
“Saints,” he groaned. “Oh Saints!” Aleksander drove his strong tongue deeper and Nikolai didn’t protest. The room was filled with sounds of desperate slurping and harsh cries of pleasure. The king tried to get closer to Aleksander’s sinful mouth, but with his hands trapped it was nearly impossible. With a harsh lick the Darkling pulled away. Nikolai whined and clenched his muscles, trying to get more of that wonderful feeling. He didn’t have to wait long before Aleksander began torturing him again. Instead focusing on the king’s neglected erection.  
Mouthing at the shaft, making his way up, and then sinking down. Nikolai hissed, his mouth was warm and wet. Expertly the Darkling worked him into a mewling mess. Sucking hard and teasing the king with that damn tongue. He kept his eyes glued to Nikolai’s face. Nikolai whimpered and dug his heels into the mattress, thrashing and rocking his hips.  
“Fuck,” he cried as Aleksander slurped and sucked on him like he was a lollipop. He caught glimpses of his cock pressing against the Darkling’s cheek. The man had his eyes shut as though he was savoring the taste of Nikolai. With one hand he prodded at Nikolai’s hole. The king hissed in a gasp through clenched teeth. It was so hot in his room! Aleksander was dragging his tongue along the underside of his cock all the while he fingered Nikolai’s ass. He’d never felt anything like this before! It was driving him insane! “My hands,” he babbled, “let go of my hands!”  
The Darkling glanced at him, and, while he drove his fingers deep into Nikolai, he released the king’s wrists. Nikolai clawed at the bed sheets, chest heaving with every breath. With one hand he reached down and held tight to Aleksander’s hair. The other he threw over his eyes in shame. He was close, so close, Saints his cock was so tight. His body coiled like a length of copper wire. The Darkling pulled back, sucking hard on the head, spreading his fingers like he was searching for something inside Nikolai. Toes curling Aleksander crooked his fingers, spit and semen were dripping down his cock, and Nikolai unraveled.  
Lurching forward with a sharp cry he came. The Darkling groaned and sank down Nikolai’s twitching cock. Gently coaxing the boy through his orgasm. The king gasped for air and whimpered. His bed sheets clinging to his sweaty skin. Aleksander saw fit to give him some rest and pulled off Nikolai with a harsh slurp. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hands he raked his nails along Nikolai’s feverish skin.  
“I think you rather enjoyed that.” He said, pecking the side of Nikolai’s mouth before distracting him with a kiss. The king couldn’t get enough of Aleksander’s taste. He was infinite, he was endless, he tasted sweet and mellow, like bubbly champagne.  
“I think I did.” Nikolai panted, knotting his fingers in Aleksander’s hair. Relaxing, how ironic, to feel so safe in the arms of the man who’d killed thousands. Nikolai let his hands wander, exploring the curves and valleys of muscle. Indulging all those intrusive thoughts he’d had so long ago. On board the whaler, when the Darkling had taken over his quarters. Aleksander claimed he knew who Nikolai was. So why not kill him then and there? Of course he’d risk the wrath of his crew. But he was Aleksander Morozova, the Black Heretic, the Darkling, he could have easily taken over if he wanted. The Darkling stooped down to kiss his neck. Soft lips that left his skin tingling. So that Nikolai was enraptured and left guessing where Aleksander would kiss next. “Aleksander,” he sighed.  
The Darkling shuddered and Nikolai wondered how many people knew his true name. His hot breath sent cascading shivers through the king. His hands kneaded away the tension in his muscles. Nikolai groaned and huffed,  
“That’s nice. A massage, how gentlemanly of you. Are you going to do my feet next?”  
Aleksander shook his head, smiling, “you never shut up do you Little Lantsov?”  
“Never.” Nikolai replied as the Darkling’s hands sunk lower.  
“Are you sure Sobachka? Are you ready?” He said, a thrill went down his spine at the thought. Was he ready? He wasn’t sure, but he sure as hell knew that he didn’t care anymore. Whether it be the longing, crushing loneliness, or desperate need to be held, Nikolia nodded.  
“Turn over Sobachka.” The Darkling commanded and Nikolai felt a stab of disappointment. He’d hoped it would have been more intimate. Noticing this Aleksander chuckled, “ease yourself. I’m not going to use you like some-what was it? Whore?”  
“You don’t want to look at me?” He pouted, “and here I thought I was handsome.” Nikolai flushed but turned over nonetheless. Like a dog, on all fours. “Please do be gentle. It would be unfortunate if the King of Ravka couldn’t walk straight for the next week.”  
“And why has your demeanor changed so suddenly your Highness? I thought you despised me.”  
“I find I can change my mind whenever I want. How dull would it be if I glowered all the time?”  
“I know that all too well.” Aleksander whispered into his ear. “The need for someone to understand how it feels. Like calls to like Sobacka.”  
Nikolai scoffed, “I am nothing like you.”  
“Oh?” The Darkling said pulling Nikolai up onto his knees. Pressing the king flush against his chest. They sat on his bed, well Nikolai sat on him, but that was beside the point. All Nikolai could focus on was the hard on digging into his back. “You rule over Ravkans, and I over Grisha. You deal with the First Army, I the Second. You charm ambassadors and I threaten them. You--”  
“Alright alright I get it. We are similar at best. Now are we just going to talk or are you going to do something?”  
“Eager Sobachka? Maybe I should treat you as a whore and use you to my heart's content?”  
Nikolai stammered for a response. “I am not! I merely want this to be over so I can get some rest. It is awfully tiring rebuilding the country you tried to burn to the ground.”  
“I only wished for Ravka to be a nation that Fjerda and Shu Han feared. I did not wish for this.”  
“Then why?” Nikolai grumbled, the Darkling rested his chin on the king’s shoulder. “Why put me and the others through so much torture?”  
“I… I do not know. I’d never thought that I could-that we could be-that I might have--”  
“Friends?” Nikolai interjected his breath hitching when Aleksander touched his ribs. “I hate that I understand that feeling.”  
“Like calls to like Little Lantsov.” The Darkling kissed his neck. His hands settling on Nikolai’s hips. Pushing his ass against his clothed bulge. “You can’t escape me.”  
Nikolai let out a hysterical laugh. “You turned me into a monster. So why do I feel like this? Why am I like this?”  
“Sobachka.” Was all he said. “Sobachka I’m sorry.”  
Nikolai hung his head, “are you? If you were, you’d leave me the hell alone.”  
Aleksander didn’t answer he ran his palm along Nikolai’s erection. The king let out a breathy moan that turned into a tired sigh.  
“I’m sorry.” Aleksander murmured, there was some fumbling behind Nikolai. He waited in tense anticipation. Shuddering when the Darkling was pressed into his back. Would it hurt? Of course it would hurt, who was he kidding? Nikolai was terrified.  
For a moment they didn’t breathe and then Nikolai broke the silence with a tense groan. The Darkling breathed heavily into his ear, as he slowly pushed into the king. “Sobachka,” he said. “Nikolai.”  
“Aleksander.” Nikolai replied leaning into the man behind him. “Morozova,” he mewled. All Saints it burned, it was hot and heavy and Nikolai thought he might faint. Pleasure coursed through him in dull waves and he trembled. His thighs ached from holding his weight. If he looked to his left he could catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Spread open, body fondled without shame by the most powerful Grisha alive (respectively). His swollen cock dripping with pre-cum. Nikolai reached behind him, trying to ground himself as his muscles spasmed, and Aleksander took his hand.  
“Hush Nikolai, I’m right here.” With his other arm he groped and toyed with Nikolai’s chest. Then he started to move, and Nikolai was certain he was dead. Why else would it feel this good? He moaned softly rocking back and forth with Aleksander. He let his eyes fall shut, focusing only on the man behind him. “You’re mine. Do you understand? No one else can hold you like this Little Lantsov.”  
Nikolai nodded too distracted to really care. The Darkling ran a few fingers along his cock and Nikolai nearly sobbed in frustration. The hand on his chest, the hand between his legs, the dick in his ass, it was too much. He was overwhelmed, he was drowning, he was drowning and it felt amazing. He moaned freely now, hot, heavy sounds that echoed in the still air. Aleksander kissed him, his neck, his shoulder, his back, his jaw, wherever he could reach. Leaving firey trails that pulsed in time with Nikolai’s heart.  
Crying out, biting his tongue, throwing his head back onto Aleksander’s shoulder, Nikolai did anything to distract himself. The Darkling took hold of his chin and seized the opportunity, sucking deep bruises into his creamy skin. Pleasure pounding through him, like the hooves of a great stallion, was driving him quickly to the edge.  
“Come to me Nikolai. To the Shadow Fold. To the burning wood.” Aleksander repeated those strange words from earlier. Nikolai swayed, he was getting rougher, fingers digging into Nikolai’s hips. Wrenching more wet cries from his sore throat.  
“Saints, oh saints! Aleksander!” The king cursed, his chin was covered in saliva. His shoulders in bruises. The pleasure was mounting, a dam ready to break if only--  
“Come for me, Little Lantsov.” The Darkling snarled, and Nikolai jolted. His exhausted body trembling as wave after wave of scorching pleasure took him over. Aleksander bit down on his shoulder, drawing blood. The king, eyes wide, screamed, and came. Hearing a muffled sigh behind him as the cock driving into his body slowed. Panting, gasping, shaking, he whimpered in his release.  
“Aleksander. Aleksander. Aleksander.” He mumbled.  
“I’m still here Sobachka.” The Darkling said, “and I’m coming home.”

Nikolai woke up panting. He tried to sit up but winced when pain shot through his lower back. Glancing around he took in his surroundings. He was in a barn, laying on a mound of scratchy hay. He was covered in deep bruises and caked in mud. On the horizon the sun was rising. He gulped, where was he? He struggled to his feet, swayed, and looked down. His chest was drenched with dark blood. Instinctively he licked his lips and cringed when he tasted iron.  
He heard the thundering of hooves and assumed that some farmhands had gotten rowdy. What was he supposed to say? “Sorry lads I seem to have taken up sleep walking?” Not a chance in hell. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. Wiping his face he sat down hard. The front of his pants were stained. A blush rose in his cheeks.  
It was just a dream. He told himself, no harm done. Then he felt his shoulder and came across a raised ridge of skin. Aleksander had bitten him in that precise spot. Nikolai shuddered and his stomach turned to lead.  
It wasn’t a dream. The Darkling was alive, somehow, and Nikolai Lantsov had had sex with him.  
“All Saints,” he whispered to the morning sky. Just as a coach rolled into view. Nikolai recognized the driver. Tolya, that meant Zoya was here too. He saw her blue kefta as she stepped out of the coach. Stomping and cursing and demanding he explain. Why had Nikolai been so foolish? To hope that Ravka could be left alone to prosper? He looked to the west, imagining an inky blot beneath the sun. “We are so royally screwed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nikolai was hard to write so I hope I did him justice.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another one, it should only be two parts. I'm very tired so apologies.
> 
> More will be posted soon.


End file.
